The Missing Victors
by DwellInDreams1019
Summary: Before the 74th Hunger Games, the 60th Hunger Games was the first to result in a multiple victory. Now 15 years later, the Third Quarter Quell has rolled along and past victors are reaped. But the four victors of the 60th Hunger Games have gone missing. Who are these four victors that cleverly escaped the Capitol's strangle hold? Multiple OC, not a SYOT.
1. Prologue

**Hello all! This is my first time dipping into Hunger Games fanfiction and I'm actually really excited to do so! So, welcome to the 60****th**** Hunger Games! This story is NOT a SYOT, I'm sorry. I have all my characters created and I'm rather attached to them. I do however submit some of the tributes depicted in this story into other SYOTs so if you see them in a different story, that's probably why :)**

**A couple things to mention: 1) I'm kinda a potty mouth so there will probably be strong language in this, particularly when the Games take place. That's mostly where the T rating comes from along with some violence, obvi. 2) There's about an equal amount of gay and straight characters, since the HG takes place in the future, I'd imagine it's not as big of a deal as it is in the present time. 3) I'm writing this story mostly for me just so it will stop driving me crazy in my brain, so I'm not really expecting any readers. But obviously I'll be ecstatic if any of you decide to read! I really do work hard on my stories :)**

**Thank you so much if you're reading, and disclaimer: I only own my tributes!**

**~o~  
Prologue**

Katniss sat in silence alone in front of the television screen, which had been long turned off. She ran through the new tributes in her head, recalling their previous games and deliberating their strengths. With the tributes of the 75th Hunger Games being past victors, she knew getting out alive—or at least getting Peeta out alive—would be challenging. Especially with the experienced Careers lurking about.

Lost in her thoughts, she was slightly startled by the sound of clinking behind her. She didn't have to turn around to know who it was. Without a word, Haymitch plopped in the chair beside her, taking a sip of his freshly poured drink. She watched him, not making any efforts at conversation.

After minutes of pure silence, Haymitch spoke up. "They actually did it. Snow must be pissed."

"Who did what?" Katniss asked.

He considered the question in his head, contemplating an effective way to answer. He set the glass down on the countertop, focusing his full attention on the young victor. "Lemme tell you a story. I'm sure you know about the 60th Games?"

Katniss nodded. "The only other Games with multiple victors. They allowed four."

"Exactly. Which is why those games were special. And that's also why they were one of Snow's biggest mistakes—if not the biggest," he said, picking up his glass and gulping down the rest of the alcohol. He'd taken up drinking again ever since the Quarter Quell's theme had been announced, Katniss had noticed. "See the 60th Games were meant to be the Capitol's way of getting the districts to like them rather than fear them. In order to 'remind citizens that the Capitol isn't the enemy'. Load of bullshit if you ask me. Snow didn't like the idea to begin with, but it was insisted that showing the tributes mercy would stop any and all signs of rebellion. But now…now the whole idea's gone to hell."

Before Katniss could ask, he explained, "Not only has it not stopped a rebellion, but it also united the districts—last thing Snow wants. And now," Haymitch paused, allowing a small chuckle to escape his lips, "now those four victors have outsmarted him."

Katniss immediately caught on, remembering a few of Effie's comments while watching the recap of the reapings. She was questioning why certain tributes weren't present. "They escaped," Katniss acknowledged. She was confused. How could these four victors could have possibly managed to slip right past the peacekeeper's—right past the _Capitol's_—noses? Unless… "They had it planned from the beginning, ever since they won. They knew something like this was going to happen. But…how could have they known?"

Haymitch stared at the bottom of his empty glass. He remembered those victors very clearly in his mind from when he mentored those Games fifteen years ago. They were clever, they were strong. And most of all, they were damn determined and passionate. All four of them deserved to win their games more than anyone. With a smirk, he replied, "Cause they're goddamn smart, that's how. The missing victors of the 60th Hunger Games are the smartest victors we've ever had."

Haymitch stood and retreated to his bedroom, leaving his empty glass on the table. Katniss attempted to recall the faces of the victors he had mentioned, but the images wouldn't pop into her mind. She was only two when those games had broadcasted after all. With a shake of her head, she also stood. Knowing full well that she wouldn't be able to get any sleep, she made her way to her room, trying to push the thoughts from her racing mind away.

**~o~**

**Once again, if you decided to read, thank you so much and it'd be wonderful if you told me what you thought! This is the prologue, the next chapter will be from the Gamemaker's prospective and then I'll move onto reapings :)**


	2. The Fiery Gamemaker

**Here's chapter one! I hope you like the twist (and Hansine cause I literally just made her up on the spot as I was writing this chapter—whoops!). I think I'm going to have fun writing this. Reapings are next! :)**

**I also have a blog for this story, just to help organize my thoughts and also if anyone reading would like a visual aid. Here is the link, just take out the spaces: themissingvictors. webs. com**

**~o~**

**Chapter 1  
The Fiery Gamemaker**

A young woman scanned over the papers spread out in front of her quickly and determinedly. Everything had to be perfect, everything _had_ to be in place. Part of it must had been her perfectionist trait, but she knew full well that President Snow would have her head—literally—if there was even a slight mistake in this year's games.

Hansine Iori had spent the past year slaving over her plans for the 60th Hunger Games. It was her second year as head Gamemaker and she knew she had to show up last year's Games, as excellent as they were. Snow even complimented her personally for her deadly arena jam packed with facades and pseudo safety spots. Most of the tributes didn't even stand a chance in her brilliant arena. It wasn't a surprise when an 18 year old Career won.

She was so close to being finished with this year's plans and she just _knew _President Snow would absolutely love it. She smiled happily as she thought of herself in the future—presenting the 70th Hunger Games, her most deadly of them all, with her beloved fans cheering her on all the way. She shook her head, snapping back to reality. She couldn't let her daydreaming distract her.

Hansine beamed as she added the finishing touches to her arena, sitting back in her chair and admiring her work. She yanked her long firetruck red and orange hair out of its ponytail and let it cascade down her back in pride. Neatly gathering her papers, she placed them into a file and tucked them beneath her arm. After placing her thick black rimmed glasses over her eyes, she rushed out the door excitedly, eager to find President Snow.

She waited patiently outside his office until a peacekeeper let her in. She managed to hold back the smile that was daring to cross her face and approached the President in a respectful manner. "Ah yes, Hansine Iori. Have you finished then? Reapings are in a week, and I expect my Games to be flawless."

Not an ounce of nervousness flickered in her as she handed him the plans. "Yes, sir," she said excitedly. "But before you start…I have a proposition." Snow looked at the young woman in surprise.

"Yes? This better be good."

This time she felt a slight twinge of anxiousness, but she boldly shoved it aside and took a step forward. "Well, this is sort of a stretch—and you may not agree with me. But hear me out. The theme for this year's Games is to remind people that while the Capitol's the superior, we're not the district's enemy, right? _Well_, I came up with an idea. This year, and _just_ this one year…we allow more than one victor."

Snow immediately began a retort but the brave Hansine held up her hand. "Please, sir, hear me out." Snow didn't look pleased, but he allowed her to continue. "While it's great that they fear the Capitol—and they should—what better way to crush any speak of rebellion—and believe me, I've been hearing it—than one year of pure kindness. Much more kindness than they deserve. Trust me, I want them dead just as much as you do. Think about it, sir! We allow even the opportunity for their precious children to survive, they'll _adore_ us. There won't even be any thought of rebellion. Mark my words."

Snow looked upon her skeptically. His interest, however, was indeed captured. Though he hated the idea, he had to admit that the Gamemaker had a point. And she hadn't let him down last year. With a cold expression, he calmly asked, "You have my attention. And how exactly would this multiple victory play out?"

Hansine grinned, ecstatic that Snow was considering her idea. The young woman proudly pushed her glasses farther up on her nose and dug out her papers, beginning to explain the ruthful Games to the President.

~o~

"And now—Head Gamemaker, infamous for her outstanding work on last year's 59th Hunger Games—please welcome Hansine Iori everybody!" Caesar Flickerman boomed enthusiastically over the roaring of the crowd seated before him. A pale young woman with a bright, gleaming smile and hair as red as blood confidently strutted out on stage in a glittery green dress, waving charmingly to the audience.

She gave Caesar a quick hug and he held her hand out, introducing her presence excitedly to the cheering audience. Hansine's brilliant hazel eyes shone happily from behind her long lashes and heavy green makeup. She took a seat in the armchair across from Caesar as the cheering from the crowd died down.

"Hansine, Hansine, Hansine," Caesar grinned. "It is lovely to see you again, my dear!"

"I can say the same thing about you, Caesar. It feels absolutely wonderful to be here today! And lemme just say, I've got some big surprises in store for you all today!" she said, eating up the attention from the crowd. The audience made sounds of interest and Caesar shifted more towards the edge of his seat.

"Is that so? Well, I know one thing for sure—I know we're all excited to hear all about the arena, am I right?" he exclaimed. The audience agreed loudly. Hansine's smile widened. "You're a brilliant young woman, I'm sure the 60th Games will be the best one yet! What can you share with us?"

"Well, thank you Caesar!" she said brightly. "Well…we're putting quite a big twist on this year's Games. It's going to be…like a Quarter Quell without it actually being a Quarter Quell." The audience resumed their sounds of interest, prompting her to continue. "Though President Snow was a bit skeptical—with good reason—I came up with the idea to split the 24 tributes into eight teams of three. Interesting teams too, ones that will stir some drama, each member from a different district."

Caesar looked positively delighted with this news. "Won't that be exciting! Now how will the victor be chosen? Will the teams play any affect into that?"

"They will actually. If a full team of three makes it to the end with no other tributes surviving, all three will win! However, if there are no teams by the end, that means only one person will become the victor. Make sense?" Hansine explained.

The audience was completely absorbed in this idea. Caesar didn't look too much different from them and he wasn't shy to express his enthusiasm. "Up to _three victors_! This is just a holiday! Now we barely have to worry about choosing favourites!" He laughed loudly, and Hansine and the audience were quick to join in.

"That's right, Caesar! And if the Capitol loves it, I'm sure the districts will go nuts over this idea! How could they not, I'm a genius!" Hansine mused. Another collective laugh from Caesar and the audience followed.

"You sure are!" Caesar laughed. "And I'll bet on my life that this Hunger Games will mark you down as one of the greatest Gamemakers in history. Lovely, absolutely lovely! Hansine Iori, everyone!" Caesar stood, taking the young woman's hand once again and raising it high. Hansine's eyes hungrily scanned over the booming crowd, absorbing their expressions of love and adoration for her.

She ate up the attention just like the people did for the Games. Soon the 60th Hunger Games would begin and, like Caesar said, she'd go down as the most famous Gamemaker in history. She felt on top of the world!

She couldn't wait for her tributes—and more importantly, she couldn't wait for their slaughter.

~o~

**District 1 reapings should be up fairly soon :)**


	3. District One Reapings

**Depending on how busy I am, certain chapters may take me longer to write. And I get writers block a lot haha. But I'm really liking writing this :) I'll also put pronunciations for each name, even if it's self explanatory so:**

**Raees Richards (Ray-ee-s)  
Claramae Omorose (Cl-are-ah-may)**

**Disclaimer: While I own most of the characters in this, I do not own the Hunger Games and certain characters mentioned.**

**~o~  
Chapter 2  
District One Reapings**

_The trees were a blur as she bolted past them, narrowly dodging the tall pines and giant boulders littered across the forest ground. She was using all of her effort to concentrate on the path ahead of her that would lead her to the clearing. She couldn't look back…she _could not_ look back. Her breath was coming in sharp pants and her chest screamed in pain as she struggled for air in her fast pace. She was almost there…just a few more yards._

_She looked back._

_She didn't even get a glance of her pursuer before her foot caught on a jagged rock, and she stumbled forward, spiraling to a rough halt. Her head spun as she quickly tried to scramble to her feet, but it was too late. A sharp kick was delivered to her side and she hollered in pain, rolling onto her back. Above her stood a beautiful girl with golden waves cascading around her dirt-caked face._

_The blonde girl smiled a sinister grin and raised a single arrow. Her victim cowered fearfully, desperately attempting to back away; to do anything to escape. Her attacker was too quick. The arrow was plunged deep into her heart. The girl watched cheerfully as the light left her victim's eyes, and shortly after, a loud cannon sounded. Her heart soared with pride as she knew what came next._

_A thunderous, enthusiastic voice sounded throughout the arena. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to announce the winner of the 60__th__ Hunger Games: Miss Claramae Omorose of District 1!"_

~o~

Claramae woke with a start, and in a rather good mood. Pushing her flowing blonde hair out of her face, she smiled and recalled her fabulous dream. She plopped down onto her back, shifting uncomfortably in her small, rickety bed. It was only a matter of time before that dream would come true. Today was finally the day—_her_ day! The day she was going to volunteer for the Hunger Games.

She hopped out of bed and strolled into the kitchen of her tiny house, not bothering to change out of her training clothes. Inside, her mother was cooking breakfast while her little sister sat at the table in boredom. She assumed her father was already at work—he clearly saw no reason to be there to see Claramae off. Whatever, he'd appreciate her more later.

Without a hello, Claramae took a seat across from her sister, ignoring her family completely. However, she looked up and glared when her sister snorted. "What?" Claramae snapped.

"Your hair looks funny. Did you even brush it?" Sallina said snootily. Claramae narrowed her eyes.

"Shut up, you little brat."

"Claramae!" her mother scolder her, sending her oldest daughter a dirty look. Claramae felt a twinge of anger build up in her, but she kept her mouth shut. Her mother set small plates of food down in front of her daughters. It wasn't much food—at least not compared to the rest of District one. The family was awkwardly silent, and Claramae picked at her breakfast disinterestedly. Finally, her mother spoke up softly once more. "You don't have to, you know. You don't have to volunteer."

Claramae rolled her eyes exasperatedly. They had gone through this a million times. "I _want _to, mother. And you or dad cannot convince me otherwise. Drop it."

Her mother shook her head. "I just don't understand…"

"What is there not to understand?" Claramae practically shrieked, dropping her fork onto her plate with a loud clang. "I've worked for this for almost my entire life! I'll win and when I come back, we'll have pride to our name and we'll get to move out of this shithole and to Victor's Village! Do you not get how nice it'd be to not be dirt poor for once!"

"But what _if you lose_?" her mother whispered scathingly.

"I'm _not. Going. To lose," _she replied pointedly.

"But Clara—"

Claramae abruptly stood, wiping her face with a napkin. "I'm not hungry. I'm going to my morning session with Leopold. See you at the reapings." She was out the door before her mother or sister could get in another word. God, they just made her so angry. Why couldn't they have a little faith in her? She was the most well-trained girl in the district, there was no way she wouldn't win the Hunger Games. And when she brought her family to the mansions in Victor's Village, they'd thank her. They'd finally appreciate her.

She burst into the training area where she spent most of her time, still fuming. "Fucking hell, they're so frustrating! Come on, let's run it, I need to punch something."

"Nice to see you too, flower," her trainer, Leopold, grinned. Claramae couldn't help a smile in return. To be frank, Leopold was gorgeous. And an amazing trainer. And it wasn't a secret that Claramae was the 22 year old's favourite student by a long shot. He held up a heavy punching bag as Claramae yanked her gloves on, and began to punch it, letting out her anger in the forceful blows.

Claramae ran through her normal training routine, practicing her strength and her speed, and most importantly her skills with a bow and arrow. They were better than ever—she hit nearly every single target directly in the middle. Three hours later, she was beaming with pride and confidence. She was definitely going to win this.

"Are you sure you're ready to volunteer this year?" Leopold asked gently, placing his hands on her shoulders. "There's nothing wrong in waiting one more year. It might even give you a better shot at winning."

Claramae smirked playfully. "What, now _you _think I can't win?"

"Didn't say that! I'm just making sure," Leo said defensively. His hands moved to cup her face. "I know you can win this, Claramae. You're the best and brightest student I've ever had. I have no doubt in my mind, my flower." He gently tapped the tip of her nose with his finger. She beamed admirably and flushed slightly. She was usually good at hiding it, but sometimes her big, fat crush on her trainer showed despite her efforts.

With two hours left until the reapings, Claramae headed back home and managed to swiftly avoid her mother or sister seeing her. When two o'clock rolled along, she strolled out of her house in a crisp, pure white dress, feeling more confident than ever.

~o~

A throwing star soared through the air and sunk deep into the center of a tree, just narrowly avoiding a bystander. A group of teenage boys cheered loudly and obnoxiously, admiring the swift throw. The thrower, an 18 year old boy with curly brown hair, smirked arrogantly and basked in his friends' cheering.

One of the boys raced up to thrower and rose up his arm. "And the winner of this year's Hunger Games iiiiis…Raees Richards!" the boy shouted, arousing another round of whooping and shouts. Raees pushed his friend away, still grinning a handsome smile.

The angry bystander marched up to the group furiously. "Watch where you're throwing those things! You could have killed me!"

"Oh please, go cry about it to someone who cares, grandpa," Raees responded, earning another hoot from his posse. The bystander shook his head at the young boys and stomped away. Raees threw several more of the stars, planting each one in its designated target. He knew he was going to win the Hunger Games this year—I mean, how couldn't he?

His posse agreed wholeheartedly. "Hey, when you win you gotta bring us back some of that capital food! I'm fucking sick of all the bread here," one of his friends spoke up, as they began to make their way to the reaping area. It was almost time—in less than an hour, Raees would be volunteering.

"I'll see what I can do," Raees replied absentmindedly, not really paying any attention to the questions aimed his way.

"You know who else is volunteering?" another friend of his spoke up. "That one Clara girl. The really hot one."

"Huh," Raees said in acknowledgement. He smirked suddenly. "Maybe I'll fuck her before I kill her." His friends let out another round of laughter and he joined in. The comment should have made him feel guilty, but…he just didn't care. He couldn't care about anyone else in this competition. He would bring pride to his district; pride to his family. Because this was his year—everyone but him would die.

He was going to win, and he wouldn't let anyone else get in his way.

~O~

"Happy Hunger Games, District One!" Goldess Trim, the District One escort beamed. He was a plump man with white-dyed hair, a deep tan and wearing a crisp white sparkly suit. Like usual, he was thrilled to be in front of the District. Goldess adored their enthusiasm for the Games.

The citizens cheered loudly, eager to show how excited they were for a new year of the Games. The two mentors, Glaze of the 49th Hunger Games and Brillia of the 54th, held their heads proudly as they looked over the excited crowd. The short history video played—most of the citizens barely paid attention—and Goldess finally stepped up to the two bowls wheeled in front of him.

"Now, on orders from the Head Gamemaker, Miss Hansine—I'm sure you all remember her fabulous work on last year's Hunger Games, am I correct?" he said cheerfully and received the reaction he was hoping for. The crowd applauded noisily. He raised one finger and continued, "We're mixing things up a little bit. This time, I shall draw the male tribute first!"

The citizens were fully interested, having heard of the original twist on this year's games. They couldn't help but speculate if this announcement would be the last of the changes to the Games. Nevertheless, they were more engrossed than ever.

Goldess's hand dived into the bowl, not sparing another moment in his own excitement. He shuffled the papers about and pulled out a name directly from the bottom of the bowl. The district was completely silent as he slowly unfolded it, squinting his eyes slightly to read the name.

"Carlo Milton—"

"I volunteer!"

An eighteen year old boy with curly brown hair, brown eyes and an attractive smile strolled to the stage, carrying an arrogant disposition with him. He ignored the glares of the other eighteen year olds, along with an extremely pissed off seventeen year old who was, quite clearly, the one who's name had gotten called.

Goldess laughed joyfully as the boy came on stage. "The 60th Hunger Games' first volunteer! What's your name, young man?"

"Raees Richards," Raees announced, winking at the girl's side, "your next victor." From the seventeen year old section, Claramae scoffed. Raees's parents smiled proudly, his mother giving a small clap of approval.

"Very charming! Thank you, Raees!" Goldess boomed, clapping the young man on the shoulder. "And now for the ladies…" He closed his eyes and dug right into the names, pulling one out quickly. This time he unfolded the slip swiftly, scanning over the name. "Marigold Lovetill!"

"I volunteer!" Claramae yelled, beating a girl beside her who had begun to open her mouth. Sending the girl a superior smirk, she stepped out of the crowd and made her way up to the stage gracefully. Her pretty white dress swished around her legs.

"What a gorgeous one she is! Look at her!" Goldess exclaimed admirably. Claramae beamed. From the thirteen year old section, Sallina crossed her arms and rolled her eyes jealously. Claramae's mother shook her head disappointedly and stared at the ground. "What's your name, little miss?"

"Claramae Omorose," she stated. With a small smirk, she glanced over at Raees. "And unlike Raees over here, _I'm _your next victor." She caught Leopold's eye and smiled as he laughed proudly. Goldess hooted gleefully.

"Looks like we got a little competition between our Careers this year! Splendid! Now I'm going to need you to be civil for just a bit longer—shake hands please!"

Rather than looking angry or annoyed, Raees appeared to be intrigued in his district partner. With a conceited smile, his eyes scanned over the beautiful girl and he stuck his hand out. "Game on, _Clara_," he mocked, only partially joking. Claramae raised her eyebrows, but returned the smile. They shook hands, staring each other down.

"Give it up for these two fabulous tributes!" Goldess shouted once the two separated. The crowd roared once more—even though it wasn't their year to be in the Games, at least they had tributes who could definitely win.

Raees and Claramae waved to the crowd one last time before they were escorted off stage, both with the mindset that it would not be the last time they would see District One.

~o~

Claramae's mother and sister were pushed forcefully out of the tribute's room in the Justice Building. She rubbed her forehead, feeling slightly guilty. Like usual, she insisted that they shouldn't worry about her and that they were overreacting. She told them they'd thank her later. What if later didn't happen? What if those were the last words she said to them?

Claramae immediately shook the thought out of her head. Where did that come from? Of course she was coming back. There was no doubt about it. What was she even thinking?

The doors opened once more. Leopold engulfed her in a warm hug with a large smile on his face. Claramae grinned happily and wrapped her arms around her trainer and best friend. "My little flower," he whispered in her hair. He released her, holding her by her shoulders. "You will make a great victor."

"You think?" Claramae said happily.

"Definitely."

They just stood for a moment, staring contently at each other. Claramae couldn't believe how lucky she was to have someone like Leo in her life. He supported everything she did and stayed by her side with open arms, even when she was at her worst. Even when her reckless anger got the better of her. God, she just…holy shit. She just _loved _him.

"Oh!" Leopold started, digging something out of his pocket. His hand emerged holding a beautiful, yet simple silver bracelet, highlighted with gold accents. It looked just like the one he wore on his wrist—except more feminine. "I got this for you. To remember your training…and me."

She slipped it onto her wrist, admiring the shimmering details and its perfect fit. It was much more that anything she could possibly afford. She looked up at her trainer, beaming. "It's perfect," she breathed. Looking pleased, Leo placed a hand on the side of her face, stroking his thumb alongside her cheek.

"You're welcome."

Slowly, his face got closer to hers—those beautiful grey eyes got closer— and finally, the distance closed. They kissed softly and leisurely, savoring each other. And just for the moment, Claramae thought everything was perfect.

"Time's up!"

They forced themselves apart reluctantly. Leopold kissed her forehead and offered her a final smile. She returned it and watched sadly as he disappeared from the room. And for the first time, she almost regretted volunteering for the Hunger Games.

~o~

**I accidentally ended up getting really attached to Claramae…oops.**


End file.
